


Scenes From an Unwritten Fic

by tasteofshapes



Series: Harry Potter drabbles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Soulmates, also featuring the Luggage, and certainly not because draco's smiling, and not because his throat is so slender and inviting, harry potter watches draco, hence the watching must continue, is draco an evil-doer?, probably, scenes from an unwritten fic, the Luggage does not like Sirius Black, there's only one bed, to see if he's evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofshapes/pseuds/tasteofshapes
Summary: Based on a prompt game: give me a ship and a prompt, and I'll write you a scene from an unwritten fic. Here's the HP collection.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Harry Potter drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691635
Comments: 28
Kudos: 90





	1. Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a discussion with @draco-has-daddy-issues, in which your world loses all colour when your soulmate is near death / dies. Awesome photoset by @draco-has-daddy-issues [here](https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/189349165990/during-the-battle-draco-malfoys-world-turns-grey).

So it’s completely unexpected when Harry finds himself catching the crook of Draco’s elbow and pulling him to a stop. 

“_What_,” Draco snarls, whirling around. 

“Nothing,” Harry says, blinking in surprise in the face of Draco’s fury. “I... Just, be careful.”

“Be careful? Be _careful_? Potter, have you forgotten that we are _sworn enemies_?”

Harry stares back at him, puzzled. “Erm,” he says slowly, “_Voldemort_ is my sworn enemy.”

Draco glares at him in speechless fury for a long moment. “And what am I,” he finally snaps, “chopped liver? Not good enough even to be your sworn enemy? Well guess what, Potter, you can’t just brush six years of hatred under the carpet and pretend that it doesn’t exist! I won’t let you!” His voice rings out through the corridor, loud and commanding, and just a little bit shrill.

This was a bad idea. Harry doesn’t know what he was thinking, trying to talk to Draco like a normal human being when he clearly _wasn’t_. He glares back equally fiercely, trying to cover his disappointment with anger. “You’re mental! Why does it always have to be so _difficult_ with you? You _know_ Voldemort’s back. There are more important things than this. Can’t we just... move on?”

They’re face to face now, so close that he can feel Draco’s breath on his cheek every time Draco exhales. He’s surprised to find that he’s still holding onto Draco’s arm; that Draco still hasn’t pulled away. Abruptly, the anger dissipates, and Harry can feel that familiar gnaw of worry start up again in the pit of his stomach. _Whatever you’re up to_, he thinks, _don’t do it_.

“Draco,” he says, and is equally surprised as Draco when it comes out as a plea. Draco’s face shifts from anger to confusion, and for a wild second, Harry thinks he’ll give in. Draco’s eyes are silvery grey beneath those long lashes, and they dart wildly from Harry’s face to where he’s holding onto Draco. Still.

Then Draco’s shoving him back forcefully, his hands curled into fists against Harry’s robes. “Oh, why can’t you just leave me alone,” he snarls, thumping Harry on his chest. Then Draco turns and flees down the corridor, leaving Harry behind, his heart pounding, stunned.


	2. Breakfast in the Great Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt given was "Drarry - breakfast in the Great Hall".

Harry is watching Draco intently for signs of evil-doing. 

“I’m watching Draco for signs of evil-doing,” he announces to the table at large. 

Next to him, Hermoine looks up from buttering her toast. “Is he?” She says in tones of faint surprise.

“Huh?” Harry says. 

“Up to evil-doing. This early in the morning?” They both look over to the Slytherin table where Draco’s grumpily pouring himself a cup of coffee, scowling down at some first-years laughing at the end of the table. They stop immediately, cowering under the force of his glare.

“Evil never sleeps,” Harry says, distracted. Draco’s long fingers are curled around his cup, his head tilted back as he drains the coffee, his slender throat exposed. Harry swallows hard, his gaze tracing the curve of Draco’s neck.

Then Draco sets his cup down and meets Harry’s eyes straight on. Startled, Harry quickly looks away, then down at his plate of untouched food, and hastily picks up his fork. He shovels in a few mouthfuls of food, chewing mechanically and tasting nothing. When he looks up a few moments later, Draco’s turned away, imperiously beckoning to Blaise for the coffee pot.

“Honestly Draco,” Blaise says, his sharp voice cutting through the chatter filling the Great Hall, “you’re an addict. No one below the age of twenty needs three cups of coffee to start their day. That’s just wrong.”

“Quiet, Zabini,” Draco says, and holds his cup out for a refill. “No nagging till I get my coffee. You know the rules.”

Blaise rolls his eyes. “I never agreed to those rules,” he says, but fills Draco’s cup anyway. Harry watches as Draco eyes the coffee greedily, a small smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. Draco’s always had an expressive mouth, a mouth made for sneering, for smirking, for snarling. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever noticed Draco smile before, not until now. It softens his face; makes him look gentler than he actually is. Harry can’t stop staring. 


	3. There's Only One Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @justletmebeokay prompted: "Sirius and Remus, oh no, there's only one bed..." which is one of my absolute _favourite_ tropes!

The room, when they find it, is old and shabby. The lights are dim, and the wallpaper’s peeling. But that’s not the biggest problem-

“There’s only one bed,” Remus says, and he sounds more tired than exasperated. 

“Huh?” Sirius says, sticking his head in through the doorway, still struggling with the Luggage. There’s a loud thump and Sirius yelps in pain, withdrawing to let out a stream of curses as he kicks at the Luggage. “Goddamnit,” Sirius says loudly, and Remus sighs.

“Stop playing with it,” Remus says. He strides over and swings the door open and says sternly to the Luggage, “get in here.” There’s a growl in his voice, and the Luggage picks itself up and meekly trots in and settles itself into a corner.

“It hates me.” Sirius says, scowling. “It won’t listen to me like it does with you.”

Remus doesn’t say anything, just gestures to the bed and crosses his arms, tapping his foot in irritation against the worn carpet. 

“Oh,” Sirius says sheepishly after a moment. “Uh. Might have cocked up the reservation on this one too.”

Remus just sighs again, eyeing the bed. It’s past midnight, they’ve been travelling for over six hours, and he’s too exhausted to argue the point. At least the bed is a double, so they’ll just about fit. 

Sirius is walking around, double-checking checking the windows and casting wards on the door, and Remus leaves him to it. He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his cloak and begins the process of getting ready for bed.

“Open sesame,” Remus says to the Luggage, and it obligingly unzips itself and flips itself open. He picks out his flannel PJs and his toothbrush, and when he comes back out of the bathroom, Sirius is already changed and in bed. He’s turned down part of the blankets invitingly, smiling winningly at Remus as he pats the spot on the bed next to him. 

Remus isn’t won over. “If you hog the covers,” he says as he gets in, “I _will_ kick you in your sleep.”

“Yes, yes,” Sirius says comfortingly, “I’ll let you.” He waves his wand and turns off the lights, and is asleep within minutes. _Typical_.

Remus tosses and turns for a while, trying to find a comfortable position. The mattress is old and creaky, and the springs squeak every time he turns. After a few minutes of this, Sirius sleepily throws an arm around him, anchoring Remus to him, and mumbles, “go to sleep, Moony.”


	4. Waiting Impatiently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a [writing game I'm playing on tumblr](https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/189915347145/send-me-characters-and-a-letter-and-ill-write): send me character(s), a letter and I'll write you a mini-fic!

“Where is it,” Draco says, tapping his foot against the floor. His arms are crossed, and his mouth is twisted into a small frown - not exactly the very picture of excitement that Harry had hoped for when he told Draco that his present was hidden somewhere around the flat.

“If I tell you, that defeats the purpose of a treasure hunt,” Harry says. Draco scowls at him. 

“I will _not_ be reduced to searching for presents like we’re twelve,” Draco says indignantly, which is when Harry says, “I never had presents when I was twelve.”

That stops Draco right in his tracks. “You what,” he says slowly. There’s no way he could have heard Harry right.

“Well I mean I did, but they were always hand-me-down clothes that Dudley grew too fat for.”

Draco says, eyes narrowed dangerously, “what were the names of your relatives again? I promise it’s not because I intend to hunt them down and turn them into little cockroaches and stomp on them.”

Harry laughs, and pulls Draco in. “Don’t,” he says, rubbing Draco’s back comfortingly. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Just, indulge me, okay?”

“Of course,” Draco says, kissing his cheek. “Give me the first clue. And I’m sorry,” he adds a moment later, “I didn’t think when I said-”

“It’s okay,” Harry interrupts, smiling at him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” And it truly doesn’t. 


	5. Unsteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt: Drarry, S - Unsteady by X Ambassadors.
> 
> This song is amazing, and this was such a good prompt! I had to cut this short because it’s meant to be a mini-fic, but I already know I’m going back to flesh it out more. Enjoy some angst on me.

It happens at the Ministry party. On hindsight, they shouldn’t have let their guard down, but it was a _Ministry party_. No one expects anything to get past Ministry security, not with the Aurors there, but it happens anyway. And at the worst possible moment too: they’re in the middle of yet another fight about whether Draco should continue being an Auror, and they’re unhappy and aren’t speaking to each other, and this is obviously the _best_ opportunity for a strike.

Harry sees it the moment after it happens: Draco walking towards him, unsteady on his feet, his pupils blown.

“H-harry,” Draco says, and his words have already begun to slur. That’s when Harry realises that it isn’t your run-of-the-mill, let’s-kill-the-Deatheater poisoning episode. This is quick-acting, whatever it is that they’ve slipped him, and it’s taking its toll on Draco _fast_. “It’s happened.”

Draco stops, swaying where he stands, and Harry takes two quick strides and is immediately by Draco’s side, his heart pounding. He tries to be discreet, because he knows Draco hates drawing attention whenever it happens. 

“Can you make it to the door?” Harry asks quietly, slipping an arm around Draco’s waist. Draco looks at him and tries to say something, but then his eyes roll back into his head and his entire body goes limp. Harry catches him, as he always does, and holds Draco to him protectively even as he scans the crowd, who have begun to turn to look at them. 

A shock murmur runs through the crowd when they see Draco collapsed in Harry’s arms, and Harry gets his wand out. Everyone hastily takes three steps back.

“Stay back,” Harry says, loud and commanding, and concentrates on St. Mungo’s. There’s the sharp crack as he tries to apparate with Draco, and they flicker out before reforming again. _The Ministry wards_. He’s forgotten about the Ministry wards.

“Fuck,” Harry says, panic growing in the pit of his stomach. Draco’s face is pale, and his skin is cold and clammy. The poison’s working too fast, and there’s still an assassin in the crowd.

“Luna,” Harry yells, completely throwing Draco’s desire for discretion to the wind. There’s no point in being discreet if Draco’s going to be dead. “Neville! Get over here!” He presses two fingers to Draco’s neck, checks for a pulse. It’s there. It’s weak, but it’s there. Harry let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding in.

At his yell, the Aurors have started to spring into action, their wands out and working their way through the crowd towards Harry and Draco, trying to form a defensive perimeter. Distantly, Harry wishes Ron and Hermione were here to back him up, but Hermione’s in her third trimester and Ron’s with her at home, doting on her every need.

Neville and Luna appear in an instant, and Luna just takes one look before she shakes her head. “He needs St. Mungo’s,” she says, digging into her robes and passing Harry a small vial of something viscous and blue. “Two drops into his mouth.”

Harry gently sets Draco on the floor, head tilted back, and gives him two drops as directed. It doesn’t seem to make a visible difference, but Draco begins breathing easier, and something tight begins to loosen in Harry’s chest. 

Neville’s already clearing a path through the crowd, his wand out, and barking orders at people to _move it_! Luna goes to Draco’s other side, slings Draco’s arm over her shoulder, and together, she and Harry make for the door, Draco’s limp body dangling in between them.

That’s when the sharp, bright green of the Killing Curse flies over their heads, striking the wall next to the door. 

There’s a single moment of stillness before the room erupts into complete chaos. The air is suddenly filled with screaming, and half the people drop to their knees, while the other half lose their heads and panic and run. The Aurors are yelling out orders over the melee, but the crowd is impossible to control.

“Fuck!” Harry yells again, and Neville hurries over to them, his eyes darting all over the room. He takes over from Harry, and Harry guards their back as they make for the door again. The crowd surges all around them, a rolling wave of people and panic and pressure, and Harry has to shove away more than one terrified person who tries to clutch at him.

“Get off,” he snaps, harsher than usual because his partner is dying and there’s an assassin trying to kill them and he has no time for niceties. They make it to the door. 


	6. Coffee Shop AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a [tumblr prompt game](https://tasteofshapes.tumblr.com/post/189915347145/send-me-characters-and-a-letter-and-ill-write) \- send me characters and a letter and I'll write you a mini-fic.
> 
> ..."Mini-fic" HAH _such lies_ I already know I'm going to expand this one too.
> 
> Edit: August 2020 - [the full length fic is here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205850).

Draco has always been partial to green. Green’s the Slytherin house colour. It’s the colour of his favourite travelling cloak hung up by the door, the shade so dark and muted that it borders on black. It’s the colour of the apple that he snatches out of Harry’s hand just as Harry’s about to take a bite.

“Hey,” Harry says, turning around in irritation, and stops short when he sees Draco smirking back at him, tossing the apple into the air in one hand. “Malfoy-?” He glances around the coffee shop, as if checking to confirm his surroundings, then looks back at Draco again, surprise clearly written all over his face. 

“Hello to you too, Potter,” Draco says coolly. “Did you pay for this, or did you count on your fame to get away with free stuff again?”

“What?” Harry says, and he’s too confused to be offended. “Susan said it was on the house.” He nods to Susan behind the cashier, and Susan gives him a smile and a little wave back. The coffee shop’s almost empty. It’s early, the sky still an inky grey despite the dawn, and the uncaffeinated zombies have not yet arisen to descend upon the shop for their daily dose of caffeine. 

“Ugh, this is what I get for hiring Hufflepuffs,” Draco says, but despite his annoyance, there’s no heat behind his words. “Well, you’d better treasure this apple Potter, cause it’s the last free one you’re going to get.” 

Draco puts the apple down on the table, right next to Harry’s hand, and turns to walk away. Except that Harry says, “wait, you _work_ here?” and he sounds so surprised that Draco can’t stop himself from turning back. 

“Work here? Potter, I _own_ the place.” At Harry’s astonished look, Draco scowls and says, “oh, what? Just cause I’m a former Deatheater, I can’t open up quaint, hipster coffee joints?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry says, shrugging. “That isn’t exactly the first thing that comes to mind when your name is mentioned.”

“And what exactly does come to mind?” Draco demands, then stops, a sly grin winding its way across his face. “Hang on, Potter, is this a confession? Have you been thinking about me? Wondering what I’ve been up to in my spare time?”

“_No_,” Harry exclaims a bit too forcefully, except that Draco’s laughing, a little too gleeful.

“Oh, of course you have,“ Draco says, smirking, "on hindsight it’s obvious, isn’t it? You copied my every move, right down to two minions. Ooh, this is one for the papers, this is. I can see the headlines already, Boy-Who-Lived Confesses to Stalking Former Schoolmate. Exclusive interview with the harassed victim on page 2.”

“They’re aren’t my _minions_,” Harry says, snorting, "Ron and Hermione are my best friends!”

“Mr. Malfoy’s arresting grey eyes are wide with disbelief. ‘I always knew Harry harboured strong feelings for me,’’’ Draco says in a falsetto, holding one hand to his chest and completely ignoring Harry. “‘I just never knew that the intensity of his feelings was actually… _love_.’” 

“Malfoy, you are such a prat,” Harry says, but instead of getting angry, he’s laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"And you’re apparently my stalker Potter, but we all have our crosses to bear.”

“Right,” Harry says, snorting again.

“Very undignified of you,” Draco informs him absently. Behind his glasses, Harry’s eyes are a bright green as he picks up the apple and bites into it, holding Draco’s gaze the entire time.


End file.
